Returning to the outbuilding, Marin—barely able to stand—dove face-first into her bed.
"I don't want to do *anything*..."
"Lady Marin, shall I prepare your bath?"
Yulia, who had followed her quietly, knelt and gently removed Marin's velvet shoes.
Marin lifted her head above the edge of the mattress and peered up at her.
"Yulia... you say 'lady' so naturally."
"Heh-heh-heh." Yulia smiled. "That's what I've always *wanted* to call you. Honestly, I realized long ago that you were of noble birth."
Marin bolted upright in surprise.
"How?"
"Nobles have a different... *atmosphere* about them. From the very beginning."
"You guessed from our first meeting?"
"Yes. I think most of the servants knew as well." Yulia's expression turned thoughtful. "Those maids who used to gossip about you behind your back—they probably sensed it too. That's *why* they tried so hard to belittle you."
Marin nodded slowly, processing this.
She had thought she'd done a decent job playing the commoner. So everyone had simply *pretended* to believe her?
*And when I dressed as a man... sitting on the floor, acting like a laborer...*
"Thank you for telling me."
A fresh wave of secondhand embarrassment washed over her. She shoved the memories aside before they could take root.
"Oh—right." Yulia's voice brightened. "The head maid asked when you'd be available tomorrow. She said we need to discuss preparations for the reception."
"I don't want to do anything."
Instead of answering properly, Marin flopped back onto the bed.
"But... you're not doing anything right now?"
"Exactly. And I want to do *even less*. Just breathe. That's all."
Yulia tilted her head, watching as Marin rolled back and forth across the mattress with inexplicable vigor.
*She says she doesn't want to do anything—so why is she rolling around so energetically?*
*Our lady is charming, but sometimes she can be very strange.*
---
The next morning, a knock came at the door. Yulia answered promptly.
Marin was taking tea with Roenna, and she set her cup silently onto its saucer.
"Good morning. Viscountess. Lady Marin."
Head Maid Paige entered, her arms laden with catalogs.
"Good morning."
When Roenna greeted her warmly, Paige's expression turned troubled.
"Viscountess—please, speak to me more simply."
Roenna hesitated. Marin caught her eye and gave a small nod.
She herself had already adjusted, but her mother couldn't continue addressing servants with excessive formality.
"Very well."
"Thank you."
Paige offered a polite bow, then raised her head. Marin eyed the stack in her arms with growing suspicion.
"I heard you wished to see me?"
"Yes."
Paige set the catalogs on the table beside the tea service.
"What are those?"
Marin's stomach tightened at the memory of being run ragged at Idre's salon.
"Reception planning catalogs. Since this is an engagement party, your input is essential." Paige began sorting through them. "This one covers tablecloth colors. This one, curtain fabrics. This one, the menu. And this one—"
"W-wait."
As expected, the task proved tedious beyond measure. An endless array of choices stretched before her, and Marin turned to Roenna with a look of pure desperation.
*Help me, Mama.*
Roenna understood that look perfectly. She patted her daughter's hand encouragingly.
"This is something *you* are meant to handle."
*No. That's not true. The real protagonist would deal with this later.*
Marin swallowed these thoughts and fixed her mother with pleading eyes.
"...Alright. I'll help."
"Did you hear that, Head Maid?" Marin beamed at Paige. "You can discuss everything with my mother."
Roenna stared at her daughter with bewilderment.
"I said I'd *help*—don't shift everything onto me."
"Mama, I haven't even finished choosing my dress yet. You know how terrible I am at making decisions." Marin clasped Roenna's hand, her voice turning sweet and coaxing. "You have far more experience organizing receptions than I do. I'll defer entirely to your taste."
"Oh, what am I going to do with you."
Roenna's tone was exasperated, but without any real heat.
"I'll stay close and learn. Please? Just this once?"
"...Fine."
Paige, who had listened silently to their exchange, slid the catalogs toward Roenna.
"Please take your time reviewing these."
"Alright."
"Then I'll leave you to discuss at your leisure. I have other duties to attend to."
Marin rose easily from her chair.
"Marin—you said you would stay and study nearby?"
"Heh-heh. Today isn't the last day, Mama."
Roenna shook her head with a sigh.
Paige straightened—then turned back to Marin.
"Lady Marin. There is something I must discuss with you."
"What is it?"
"This reception must be prepared quickly, and my role is essential. However—" Paige's voice remained steady. "After the reception concludes, I intend to step down from my position."
She announced her resignation with calm finality.
Marin, Roenna, and even Yulia—standing behind them—stared at her in surprise.
"Why so suddenly?"
"As the one responsible for overseeing the maids, I failed in my duties. My oversight caused you harm."
"But that matter is already resolved."
Paige's gaze did not waver.
"Yes. But since then, I have considered how I should answer for what happened." Her voice hardened with conviction. "You are the fiancée of His Grace the Duke. I allowed an absurd rumor to spread unchecked. All the more reason I must take responsibility."
Marin studied her with a mixture of admiration and annoyance.
*As straight and stubborn as her posture.*
But Marin was only a *fake* fiancée. She had no desire to see the head maid lose her position over a sham engagement.
"Head Maid."
Marin met Paige's eyes directly.
"Yes?"
"Do you know what Yulia was doing yesterday after dinner?"
Paige's expression tightened almost imperceptibly.
"...I do not."
Marin turned to the girl standing behind her.
"Yulia."
"Y-yes?" Yulia's nerves made her stutter.
"What were you doing after dinner yesterday?"
"I was... embroidering in my r-room."
Marin smiled and turned back to Paige.
"Head Maid—do you know what Yulia was doing one week ago this morning?"
"...I apologize. I do not."
"Yulia?"
"I... I don't remember either." Yulia looked stricken. "S-sorry."
"Don't apologize. I don't remember what *I* was doing a week ago this morning." Marin's voice was gentle. "Yulia—one more question. Do you know how many maids serve in the ducal castle?"
Yulia thought for a moment. "About... two hundred?"
"Head Maid?"
"Two hundred fifty-two."
"Exactly." Marin nodded. "The head maid cannot possibly know every movement of all two hundred and fifty-two maids. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Understanding dawned in Paige's eyes. She bowed her head.
"Yes."
"Taking responsibility is admirable. But dredging up a matter that's already been forgiven—and announcing you're leaving—" Marin tilted her head, still smiling. "—that almost sounds like you don't *want* to work under me."
"Absolutely not." For the first time, Paige's impenetrable composure cracked. Confusion flickered across her face.
"Good. I nearly misunderstood." Marin's smile warmed. "From now on, I'm counting on you as my head maid."
Paige bowed deeply—far deeper than before.
"Yes. I will serve with all diligence."